


Titgasms

by artemis1967



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Nipple Play, Obsession, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Protective Dean Winchester, Smut, pecs fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis1967/pseuds/artemis1967
Summary: Dean develops an unusual obsession.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

Dean wakes up with a start, heart racing and covered in sweat. It takes a few seconds for him to recognize his room in the Bunker and the shape of Sam sleeping peacefully beside him.

Goddamned! It's the second time this week, and he doesn't know what's worse, whether the nightmares or the erotic dreams.

He sits up, already knowing he won't be able to go back to sleep.

His eyes turn to Sam, who continues to sleep and unaware of Dean's torment. The fucking irony is Sam is the one to blame for Dean's distress or rather the cause of this is part of Sam, hidden from his eyes right now due to his brother's sleeping position. All Dean can see are the messy hair and the expansion of Sam's back.

A shot of whiskey, or a bottle, seems like a good idea at the moment.

Getting out of bed, he doesn't care about shoes, quiet steps leading him to the library. The first sip burns deliciously on its trail, but soon Dean's thoughts turn to Sam and the cause of his obsession. Obsession seems like the most appropriate word anyway.

He's on the third shot when a sleepy voice says, "Dean? Are you okay?"

Holy shit. Let him not be shirtless.

"Fine. I didn't want to wake you up."

Sam approaches him, but Dean is still looking at the whiskey glass on the table.

"You know I sleep better with you by my side."

When Sam sits on the chair facing him, Dean sighs in relief at the sight of the gray pajamas.

'Fucking big girl' is what he should say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Instead, he takes the glass to his mouth and swallows more of the amber liquid.

"What's going on, Dean?" Dean hates being the cause of that frown.

"I'm fine. Go back to bed, Sammy," he grunts, making an effort to keep his eyes from looking below Sam's neck.

"You always sleep like a log after you fuck me like that, Dean, but here you are at two in the morning and drinking." Dean feels like an idiot because of the hurt in Sam's eyes. "Alone," his little brother adds.

Big brother instinct kicks in then, "Hey, it was just a nightmare, and I couldn't sleep. It's nothing important enough to disturb your sleep, princess."

An expected, a bitchface appears. That and the relaxing effect of the drink on his body make Dean feel better already.

"Let's go back to bed." Sam gets up, and Dean's no intention of keeping his little brother up all night because of him.

"Cuddling is only for after sex, Sammy. You know the rules," he smirks, swallowing the last sip and getting up too.

"Then you're going to have to fuck me again." Sam doesn't wait for an answer and gets out of the library with a provocative waddle to his walk.

Dean follows his brother down the hall without hesitating, the cause of his nightmares forgotten for now.

@@@@@

Sam crushing the pie on his face is unexpected, but his little brother is laughing, free and safe, and Dean never heard a more precious sound. He wants to hear that forever. Still listening to Sam having fun at his expense, Dean uses his fork to get the cream on his face and takes it to his mouth, every piece of the pie too precious to waste.

"Gross, Dean."

"Shut up, bitch."

Suddenly Dean is attacked by images of cream on a specific part of Sam's anatomy and his tongue licking and sucking and...

"Dean?" A hand grips his biceps, firm but gentle.

"What?" He asks.

The laughter vanished from the pretty face, leaving a wrinkled forehead in its place.

"You spaced out, dude. You good?"

"Just thinking about how useful pies can be." Dean hopes his look to be suggestive enough, although the part where he really wants to put the pie is left out.

"I thought it was serious, and you were thinking about sex." An inevitable bitchface shows.

"Sex is elementary, my dear Watson," Dean says in the best Sherlock Holmes imitation he can do.

"The quote' elementary, my dear Watson' doesn't appear in the Conan Doyle books, Dean, but you couldn't know that just by watching the movies."

Sam's nerdiness is just as inevitable as the seasons of the year. Although he secretly adores such a trait, he acts like the smug older brother he is, "But everyone knows that quote, and only weirdos like you know this kind of unnecessary information." He smiles triumphantly, watching Sam shakes his head in disbelief, whose real meaning is 'my brother is an idiot'.

Sam gets up and smiles, a fucking devilish twinkle in his eyes. "Well, Holmes, the only elementary thing for the next week is to catalog all the material about black magic." Sam walks out towards the Impala, wiggling his perky little ass.

Why the hell does he always do that?

No sex then.

Dean will just have to manage with porn. Resigned, he closes the box full of pies and gets up to follow his brother. 

@@@@@

Dean is the only one to blame for the torture he was the only one to cause in the first place.

Sam leans over the hood—unnecessarily in his opinion—wetting his withe T-shirt even more. When he stands up again, his stiff nipples are visible under the wet fabric, and Dean has to bite his lower lip to stop a frustrated moan.

Sam's tiddies have never been a problem before, but now they cause dreams and even nightmares almost every fucking day. If Dean didn't know better, he'd think they are cursed. It also doesn't help that it's only now, after years, Dean has realized that Sam avoids contact with his tiddies whenever he can because there's always a damn T-shirt or Sam moving Dean's mouth and hands to other parts of his body. And that can only mean one thing, Sam doesn't want to have his tiddies touched, which doesn't make any sense, especially considering Sam is still ripped, even if he's not as buff as before. The logical conclusion then is that it's something related to his tiddies.

His brother grabs the hose and starts rinsing the car, his shirt looking smaller than before, making Dean's eyes fix on the dark outlines contrasting with the white fabric.

Damn it! Why did he cheat at the pool game? If he had known that Sam would wash his Baby wearing that obscene T-shirt, he wouldn't have worked hard to win the game.

"Are you enjoying the view, Dean?" Sam asks with a giant smile on his face.

"Maybe," Dean responds from his place leaning against the wall, trying to forget those little destroyers of peace.

With a sly look, the little tease comes around the car until his ass—mouthwatering confined in those wet jeans—is the focus of Dean's eyes. He doesn't need any further encouragement. Nipples forgot for now, he walks over to Sam, wrapping his arms around the slim waist and rubbing his groin against the firm globes.

"Your task is to wash my Baby, Sammy." It always amazes Dean how quickly he goes from flaccid to rock hard when in contact with Sam's ass.

The hose falls from the big hand, legs open, and Dean finds a hard-on when he grabs Sam's groin.

"I can go back to the wash." The deep voice, full of desire, and the ass rubbing against Dean contradict Sam's words.

Dean is tempted to make Sam do that just to see his brother working with a bitchface and a boner, but his cock throbs inside his pants, and he prefers to avoid a case of blue balls.

"I think Baby can wait," he says against Sam's ear and already opening the button and zipper of the wet jeans. Dean has Sam naked from the waist down and bent over the hood with practiced efficiency in seconds. A satisfied smirk plays across Dean's lips as soon as he notices blue nestled between Sam's buttocks. The slap on one of the white cheeks is inevitable, eliciting an unashamed groan from his brother.

"Always a slut, don't you?" Dean grabs the irresistible flesh, kneading it and watching the plug move in Sam's hole. "Always needing something in this hungry hole."

Raised eyebrows confront Dean when Sam looks at him over his shoulder, "Enough foreplay, Dean."

"I make the decisions here, bitch."

Dean holds the toy in one hand and pulls it out a few inches, watching Sam's stretched rim in fascination, then pushing the plug in again.

"Come on, Dean. I'm dying here." Sam presses his ass back, needy and demanding.

Three smacks in a row on Sam's right buttock leave red fingerprints on the white skin, but he goes quiet despite the frustrated groan.

"Good boy!" Dean lets the bulge in his pants touch Sam's ass, showing him what awaits him, before going back to the plug. "I'm going to fuck you against my Baby, Sammy. My two Babies together."

Chest and face against the wet metal, Sam begs, "Please, Dean."

Dean plays with the plug for a few more minutes, happy with the elaborate breaths he hears. Then he notices Sam rubbing himself against the Impala and laughs. "Baby is going to be the only friction you'll have, Sam."

"It's not fair," Sam complains, practically whimpering as he tries to fuck himself on the toy and get friction for his cock against the Impala.

"And it's because I'm feeling generous today. You might not even come at all."

Sam murmurs something that sounds like 'bossy big brothers', though he spreads his miles-long legs even more. At the limit himself, Dean pulls the plug out, not gently of course, throwing the toy on the floor of the garage. He opens his pants and releases his aching erection without taking his eyes off the small wrinkling hole. With a giant grin on his face, he slaps his cock against the buttocks and inviting hole, first because he can, second because it's good for his ego to watch Sam squirm and his entrance flexing with the need to be filled.

Dominated by his own need, Dean's left hand grabs the wet T-shirt while his cock nudges at Sam's entrance. Deliberately he pushes inside. The unmatched tightness makes him see stars for a few seconds, and then he feels how wet Sam is, practically leaking.

"You're such a cockslut, Sammy. Washing my Baby with a plug inside your ass and dripping wet." Dean fucks into him right away, hard and fast. "Wanting to be fucked by your big brother, wanting my huge dick inside this greedy hole." Sam's whole body collides with Dean's Baby on every thrust, and to his perverted mind, it's like fucking them both at the same time.

Sam pushes back viciously, confirming Dean's words. His brother may not be very vocal when it comes to sex, but his body language doesn't lie. He wants this as much as Dean does.

Lust takes over, and Dean pounds into Sam relentlessly, hand never leaving the shirt still stuck between his fingers. Soon he feels on edge, and when Sam's body convulses—because it's the correct word—leaving his brother motionless against the hood, it's too much for Dean. Grunting, he indulges in the pleasant sensations, shooting deep into Sam's ass. 

Dean is sure that the hyperdrive normally present in their sex life is related to Sam. His need for Sam's the only constant thing in his life, and at some point, the lines got mixed up and sex became part of their relationship.

He presses his face against Sam's neck, the smell of sweat and shampoo helping to calm his racing heart.

"Don't go to sleep there, old man."

Dean opens his eyes and raises his head to find a smile on the face still pressed against the hood.

"I'm not the one who usually passes out after an orgasm," he smirks, straightening up and pulling out of Sam.

"I don't pass out, jerk. Technically it's post-orgasm inertia."

Dean huffs out a laugh, "Is that what they call it these days, princess?"

Sam still doesn't move. Taking advantage of that, Dean picks up the discarded plug before pushing his index finger against the puffy red rim of Sam's hole, feeling the exact moment when the first drop begins to escape from its confinement. He loves everything about it, from the appealing visual to his brother's impeccable submission. Not wanting his come to leak, Dean inserts the plug back in, thus keeping Sam soaked inside. Sam remains pliant, although Dean can feel his eyes on him. Using the fingertips of a hand, he moves the toy against the sensitive rim, also because he can and to hear Sam moan.

"I'm a little sensitive back there right now." Sam pushes against Dean's hand anyway.

"I know." And it's the whole point, isn't it? He abuses Sam's prostate a little more before leaving the plug nestled into Sam's ass. "And now you're going to finish washing my Baby just like that while I watch." Dean pulls out a chair that he keeps in the garage to rest when he works in the cars, making himself comfortable.

Sam gets up from the hood, still a little unsteady and magnificent wearing only his wet T-shirt. Those raised eyebrows assess whether Dean is serious about what he said.

Dean crosses his ankles, not bothering to put his cock back in his pants. "Then you'll ride my cock, and we'll be done here."

"You're crazy. Do you know that?" Sam rolls his eyes but picks up the hose lying on the floor. He takes a little longer than necessary, of course, showing Dean the blue stuck between his buttocks.

The little shit is enjoying this.

"I'm crazy for you, princess. Now get on with it!"

Sam returns to wash the car, and Dean loves his life.

@@@@@

That night Dean dreams of wet, round and perfect tits under his tongue. And they taste like pie.

@@@@@

They are hunting in Minnesota when a stupid wrestling ends up with Sam falling over a mirror.

"Sam!" Dean's heart skips a beat. In seconds he is kneeling next to Sam. "Sammy? Talk to me."

"It hurts," Sam is quick to say despite the pain in his voice, and Dean knows it's more to soothe the big brother in him.

Sam's face down on the floor, and there are pieces of glass all over the place. It also doesn't help that Sam's wearing only sweatpants.

"Don't try to get up yet. There's a lot of glass around."

Sam complies, and Dean does a quick job of cleaning the glass next to his brother's body.

"Okay, Sammy. On three."

They both work together and roll Sam out of the glass. Dean sighs with relief when he sees the small cuts on Sam's arm and chest are superficial and won't even need stitches. 

"Up. Bed. I'll clean the cuts."

"I can-" Dean gives him the 'I'm the big brother here and know what's best for you'. "I can't," Sam says resignedly and allows Dean to help him get in bed.

Dean sits next to Sam's left hip with the first aid kit in hand. He cleans the cuts on the arms and forearms first, all under Sam's intense gaze, who seems relaxed even when the antiseptic comes into contact with the wounds. Sam's very tolerant when it comes to pain, an aspect that makes Dean angry sometimes, especially when his little brother tries to hide that he is hurt.

The wound in the abdomen is small, as are the two above the tattoo on Sam's chest. Dean remains focused on his task, and everything is going well until he goes to the last wound that is about two inches below Sam's tattoo. Before the antiseptic reaches its target, Dean's eyes stare at the perfectly round brown tit. The surroundings suddenly disappear because nothing else matters but Sam's tiddies. Dean wants to lick, suck, and nibble on them, wants to make love to them.

"Dean?" The grip on his arm is nothing gentle. "Why the hell have you been spacing out lately? And what is that? A boner?" Sam sounds scandalized, the sound bringing Dean back faster than the speed of light, exaggerations aside.

"No!" He puts the first aid kit onto his lap, but Sam doesn't seem convinced.

His brother sighs exaggeratedly, a slight furrow between his brows as he says, "You need to control that thing better. What if it happens when we are interviewing a witness or, even worse, talking to the police?"

"This thing you love to have in your ass, by the way," Dean says, offended. He squeezes the gauze more tightly than necessary in the last cut, noticing with perverse satisfaction the wince on Sam's face. "And what do you think I am? A teenager?"

Those fucking tits seem to stiffen even more to Dean's despair.

Don't look. Don't look.

"Getting hard while taking care of the cuts in my body? Yeah, a teen thing."

"Only if it's a teenager out of Zombieland, bitch." He hurries to finish taking care of the last wound.

"What's going on with you lately, Dean?" The tone is now concerned.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Sam. You don't have to worry your giant head about it."

As soon as Sam is no longer in danger of dying from an infection, Dean almost runs into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Those exquisitely brown spots are going to be Dean's death. Exasperated, he looks at the volume in his pants. He'll just have to get relief with his own hand.

Damn tiddies.

@@@@@

A week later, they are in Chicago to investigate the mysterious deaths of five young men. Initially, Sam thought it was a serial killer, but they found out that the circumstances of the deaths were too strange to be caused by a human.

They are almost sure it's a werewolf because of the missing hearts and attacks on full moon nights. The victims have the same age and physique, tall, lean, and muscular. Also, they all disappeared when they were in a specific gay club.

"I should be the bait," Dean insists.

"You're out of the victim's age range, Dean." The tone of voice is condescending, and Dean hates it, just as he hates this hunt. It doesn't matter Sam is thirty-eight and an experienced hunter because he's still Dean's little brother, and the protective instincts are still as strong as when Sam was a baby and Dean carried him out of that burning house.

"I don't like it," he grunts, closing his laptop that is on the small table in their hotel room.

"Me neither," Sam sighs dramatically, "But it's the only way."

His brother gets up from his chair and grabs his wallet.

"Where are you going?" Dean asks.

Eyes roll and Sam is walking to the door. "I need proper clothes if we're going to be doing this." He closes the door behind him before Dean can say anything else.

Stubborn little brothers!

Dean only has one certainty while waiting for Sam's return, he'll make sure his baby brother is safe.

@@@@@

Sam comes back with two bags, but he doesn't let Dean see their contents, and by the time they have to get ready to leave, Dean is dying of curiosity.

Sam puts his hand in one of the bags and throws him a black jacket.

"Put on a white T-shirt and that."

"Hey! My fashion sense is better than yours," Dean complains because it's not common for Sam to determine what he will wear, even if the jacket is beautiful.

"And I didn't say the opposite, dumbass. Now shut up and get ready." He then takes the bags and goes to the bathroom.

"Bitch," he mutters under his breath, even when he starts changing his clothes.

Sam takes longer than usual to get ready, but Dean thinks he's going to have a heart attack when his brother finally opens the bathroom door.

"What the hell, Sam?"

The insecurity that Dean sees in the green eyes disappears in seconds, leaving only irritation. "We have to be convincing."

"Half-naked like that, the only convincing thing is that that ass is available to be fucked."

The view makes Dean's cock stir in his pants. Black leather pants grip the muscular thighs perfectly, and Sam's voluminous hair seems to shine. The worst part, though, is that Sam's not wearing a T-shirt and has damn piercings on his nipples.

"Dean! The victims were wearing much less clothing. You're being ridiculous."

Sam puts on a black jacket, which remains open and doesn't hide much at all, curly hair that descends from the muscular chest until it hides under the waistband of those fucking pants is visible for anyone who wants to see it.

"And those things on your tits?" The irritation in his voice is just to mask how much the look is affecting him.

"They're fake. Are you satisfied now?" Not even the bitchface downplays Sam's stunning beauty, and Dean knows he won't survive tonight, not if he has to look at Sam's ornate nipples.

"Not even a little." Dean sounds like a brat, but he can't help himself.

"It doesn't matter because we have work to do." And he fucking walks out the door without waiting for Dean, of course, but at least he's a chance to check that round ass wrapped in leather.

"Fuck," Dan curses. It's going to be a long, long night.

@@@@@

Despite Dean's insistence, Sam took off his jacket not five minutes after arriving at the club. Sam was never an exhibitionist, so Dean doesn't understand this attitude right now when they're hunting a monster that's obsessed with young, muscular men for fuck's sake.

Swallowing the last of the whiskey in his glass, Dean doesn't take his eyes off Sam because it's the only thing available to him at the moment.

Because of the unusual height, Sam stands out among other people on the dance floor, and Dean has to control himself not to break the nose of each of the assholes who seem to be unable to keep their hands away from Sam. And it doesn't help that his little brother is all dimples and sensual movements, and irresistible actually. One of the guys dares to squeeze Sam's ass, but when a guy grabs Sam from behind and the other touches one of his nipples, Dean can't just look. 

Motherfuckers!

Determined, he goes to where the three men are. Without hiding the anger oozing from him, Dean pushes the two men away before grabbing Sam's hair with one hand and pulling him in for a kiss, no space between their bodies. His left hand goes to Sam's ass, possessively, and there's no doubt about who Sam belongs to. His brother starts to respond to the kiss then, hungry and rough. Applause and whistles are heard even with the loud music, making Dean realize he screwed up. He breaks the kiss and wraps his right arm around Sam's bare waist. The smirk he tries to give to people still applauding comes out more like a grimace as he pulls Sam with him towards the back exit.

"Damn it, Dean!"

This time Dean decides he's the only one in control. In the blink of an eye, he's Sam against the wall. Everything changes again just as quickly, though, because something substantial knocks him to the ground. He rolls on, trying to get free but ends up under the man, who reveals sharp teeth inches from Dean's face.

"I got there first," the werewolf growls, literally, and Dean realizes it's the same guy rubbing himself against Sam's ass before.

"That's where you're wrong." Dean hears Sam's voice before the shot. The monster collapses on top of him, but Sam helps him get free of the inert body.

"That was a close call," Sam says.

"I knew it was him," Dean lies, although it's evident Sam doesn't believe him.

"Next time, you'll be the bait, Dean."

"That's what I wanted in the first place, dumbass."


	2. Chapter 2

They go back to the Bunker, but the dreams and nightmares continue, and now with fucking piercings, a lot of different shapes and colors, and Dean wants to touch, but the tiddies and their small accessories are always out of his reach. The most terrifying of them is one where Dean gets stuck around his waist in a giant piercing while the nipple expels liters and liters of milk, almost drowning Dean in the process. He always wakes up with his heart in his throat during his nightmares and rarely leaves the bed, though, for fear that Sam will wake up and question him again.

All attempts to touch Sam's tiddies while they're fucking also don't work. There's always a slap on his hand or Sam pushing Dean's hand to his brother's cock. And maybe it's the sleepless nights, or perhaps it's the alcohol that makes Dean open up for Sam. 

For a moment, his brother looks surprised, and then he frowns. "What?"

They're sitting on the bed in Dean's room—officially theirs now—film still showing on the screen, although none of them are paying attention anymore.

"Your tiddies are giving me nightmares." 

Sam bursts into a fit of laughter.

"This is very serious, Sam," Dean complains, nudging his brother in the ribs.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Sam looks at him, assessing. "Really?"

"Yes. And you haven't helped at all because you won't let me touch them." Dean points to Sam's chest, although the fucking nipples are hidden under a gray T-shirt.

The amused expression disappears from Sam's face and changes to something suspiciously like guilt. What the hell is happening?

"Sammy?"

Dean just thinks it's fair for Sam to be honest with him too.

"Uh." Sam looks away, seeming more interested in the crap movie still playing on the screen.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" Dean insists. "After all, I practically bared my soul in front of you." It's an exaggeration, but Dean is curious now, and he won't rest before getting the information out of Sam.

"Idiot!" Sam glances at him, then tilting his head forward and allowing silky strands of hair to hide his eyes. When Dean thinks he's going to have to insist again, a soft voice says, "They're sensitive."

"What?" Dean doesn't know if he heard it right, but his cock shows a serious interest in the information. And the pink tone forming on Sam's neck and cheek shouldn't be so adorable.

"They are sensitive to a level that's not normal at all."

Embarrassment. 

Dean loves that.

"How's that?" He sits cross-legged and facing Sam.

"Forget it, Dean." 

"No way!"

Sam makes an annoying sound, and it's time to choose the right words for his little brother to keep talking.

"Look at me, Sammy." Dean's voice is kind but firm. Sam complies, brushing the hair out of his eyes with one hand. And the vulnerability in the pretty face reminds Dean how much he loves his brother. "We are in this together. I don't want to force you to do something that you are not comfortable with, just as I want to have the freedom to tell you when I don't like anything. So, if you don't want me to touch them, that's fine." He smiles, knowing he'd rather live the rest of his life with nightmares than hurt Sam.

His little brother gives him a long, evaluating look before saying, "There was a girl once. She was so insistent. I ended up coming before her, and she just sat there laughing and calling me a sissy."

"What a bitch!" Dean explodes. He doesn't understand how horrible people can be. "There's nothing wrong with that, you know. People have erogenous zones in different places of the body. I once hooked up with a girl who loved to have her armpits licked."

Sam frowns, but a small smile lifts the corner of his lips. 

"And did you do that?" He asks, curiosity dancing in his beautiful eyes.

"Of course I did. I love to satisfy my partners, but you should know it; otherwise, I'm doing it wrong." The blush comes back, and Sam's smile is wide now.

"I don't think you need any more munition for your already inflated ego, Dean."

Dean puts on a big smile on his face, getting serious again then, one hand grabbing Sam's pajama-covered knee. 

"I'm fine with what you decide on this, Sammy."

This time Sam has a grateful smile on his lips as he says, "I wanna try it, but not today, okay? Just bed and cuddling for me right now."

Dean does his best not to show his disappointment, but the possibility that this will happen is good enough for now.

"I don't cuddle, bitch," he says in false disgust, which results in a smirk and a pillow thrown at him.

Dean turns off the TV while Sam pulls the bedspread off the bed, so they take their usual sleeping position, with Dean as the big spoon.

He has no nightmares or dreams that night.

@@@@@

A week later, the opportunity comes when they help Garth's friend get rid of a ghost in a hotel by a lake. It's a perfect place for couples, and they're invited to enjoy what the hotel has to offer as a way of payment for the work done.

Dean accepts without hesitation, despite Sam's raised eyebrows.

"Why, Dean?" Sam asks as they are heading back to their room.

"We need a vacation, Sammy. Relax and enjoy!"

Instead of answering, Sam flashes one happy smile in his direction.

@@@@@

They eat real food, ride a ridiculous swan boat on the lake, have fun in the jacuzzi, fuck like rabbits, and Dean even lets Sam hold his hand when they go to one of the local bars.

Fortunately, Dean's time to plan everything carefully despite all the activities. He schedules a massage for Sam to get him out of the room, and the two bottles of champagne, chocolate, strawberries, roses, and satin sheets are delivered while his brother is busy. He makes a point of changing the sheets himself, despite tipping the maid well. He throws some petals on the bed, as he saw in one of those chick flick movies that Sam likes to watch, then he brushes his teeth, takes a quick shower, puts on the white robe provided by the hotel and waits. This is much better than the dreams he had, and Dean hopes that the much-desired moment doesn't turn into a nightmare because he's had enough of giant tiddies torturing him.

The beep sounds at the door, and Dean knows it's Sam. He puts on the brightest smile he's and waits. Sam stops in his tracks as soon as he closes the door behind him.

"Dean?" He sounds suspicious. "What is all this?"

"This is fun, Sammy. I'll rock your world, baby," he smirks.

"Don't get cocky, jerk," Sam says, but his lips curve into a slow grin.

"Come here." Dean pats the bed.

Sam leaves his slippers near the door and walks over to him, climbing on the bed without losing his smile.

"Petals," he sounds admired as he settles down beside Dean.

"My girl deserves the best."

A roll of the eye is all the answer that Dean gets because Sam seems more concerned with observing what's new in the room. Dean pours the champagne. He prefers beer and whiskey, but Sam likes sparkling wine, and today is all about making his little brother feel good.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" 

Dean takes a sip, avoiding making a face, though, and the satisfying sound that Sam makes warms his heart.

"And there are strawberries and chocolate."

"Mmm...You are a romantic, Dean," he laughs. 

Dean gets a strawberry and brings the fruit to Sam's mouth, which opens immediately. He smirks rather smugly, "But this is still manly, baby because you're the only girl here."

"I think you're confused about the gender in this room." Sam takes another sip from his flute before taking Dean's hand and pushing it against his groin, where he can feel the volume growing under the fabric. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll give you the best night of your life." Confidence has never been a problem for Dean when it comes to sex. He sets the champagne flutes aside and faces Sam, "Are you okay with everything I'm going to do here?"

Sam doesn't hesitate, "Yes."

"I don't want you to hide anything, okay? Feel free to react as you like. I won't judge you."

"I know, Dean."

Satisfied and with a massive smile on his face, Dean commands, "Naked and on his back." 

That is a command he loves to give, and Sam's willingness to obey is always an enjoyment to watch. Dean takes off his robe and watches Sam do the same with his. His brother's skin has a glow that Dean thinks is massage oil, but it's the sight of those tits that makes his blood rushes and his cock grows thick and hard.

The compliant body on the bed, despite some scars, is perfect, exuding masculinity and power, and Dean is the one with control over it, one that he likes to have, one that they both prefer.

Ignoring the heavy erection against Sam's flat belly, Dean straddles the narrow hips instead. He can see the pupils of Sam's eyes are wide with lust, without a trace of embarrassment, and it's a good sign for Dean.

Under Sam's watchful eye, Dean reaches for the object he placed below his pillow earlier. A knowing smile is Sam's single reaction as he watches Dean put the cock ring on himself. He intends to prolong it as long as he can.

Ready to start, Dean smiles at Sam before focusing on the broad chest. As much as he wants to get straight to the point, the first touch ignores Sam's nipples, index finger tracing the brown areola delicately. His brother's breath hitches, but he doesn't move, eyes fixed on Dean, tiddies hardening before Dean even touches them. He feels the heat of Sam's cock against his skin and knows the anticipation must be killing his brother. 

Losing the battle to his own desire, Dean pulls away a bit to have enough space to lean in because Sam is the only bendy in the family. One look at the expectant face and Dean moves his mouth close to the left nipple, just breathing warm air over it and doing the same with the other. Sam's breathing is labored now, although he remains almost immobile while Dean works. He can't help a smile when his tongue finally licks one of the little nubs, even more with the strangled noise he hears. The slightly salty taste is pleasant in Dean's tongue, and it's something he wants to taste more and more from now on. He uses only the tip of his tongue, teasing, before covering the areola and nipple completely, covering them with saliva.

"Dean!"

His name in a voice that sounds so broken makes Dean close his lips over Sam's right tit and suck, gently, pulling out more of the same sound.

Dean feels heat spread between them.

"What?" He looks at Sam, whose cheeks are colored by a lovely shade of pink.

"I said they were sensitive."

"Awesome! You had a titgasm." He tries to show all the enthusiasm he's feeling right now because who wouldn't want to be able to give tidgasms. Dean is just that good.

"And I'll have others if you keep this up," Sam says with a laugh, the embarrassment dissipating to allow the desire to return on his pretty face.

"I got it, baby!"

Dean licks, sucks, nibbles, and repeats everything while Sam squirms under his mouth. His brother seems to lose all coherence then, begging, bucking, and fucking whimpering, a hand clinging to Dean's hair. And there are two more titgasms before Dean is satisfied.

He sits up again then and looks at the result of his work, feeling smug because of the puffy and probably over-sensitized tiddies. Sam's face is a portrait of satisfaction, mouth slightly open and eyes half-closed.

The idea of fucking between the small nubs is appealing, and the thought alone sends more blood to Dean's impossibly hard cock—and neglected by the way— that it's time to do something. 

Dean removes the cock ring and commands, "Hold your breasts for me."

The order takes Sam out of his almost comatose state. Eyes go big and surprised though understanding comes next and red lips form a huge smile. Hands push perfect pecs together until they form a place to fuck. Sam's pecs are so big, and the view alone is breathtaking, but Dean needs to feel that. On his knees, he gets in the ideal position and hurries to slide his cock through the amazing valley of his brother's chest. Although there's not a lot of friction, it's warm and wet and so good. Dean can feel firm muscles and thick hair against the sensitive skin of his member as he thrusts.

Meanwhile, Sam lies there with a hint of smugness that Dean wants to fuck out of him. Maybe later because he's already on edge right now.

"Fuck my big boobs, Dean," Sam purrs suggestively, and Dean loves everything about it because he's the one who usually talks dirty when it comes to sex, so it's sexy as hell to hear this kind of bad porn coming out of the mouth of the same man who can recite the reverse of an exorcism in Latin and is fluent in Enochian. "You'll make me dirty with your cum, big brother?"

"You betcha, slut."

Rolling his hips, Dean keeps fucking the channel of Sam's tiddies while his eyes catch every detail of the impressive pecs and abused nipples. It's too much. He reaches his climax with a loud groan, come spurting out all over Sam's chest and throat, marking his tanned skin with the white fluid and leaving him even more irresistible, so much so that Dean rubs the tip of his cock on each of Sam's nipples as soon as they are released to return to their original position.

"You're really obsessed with them, aren't you?" Sam says, looking both amused and admired.

"You have no idea, Sammy." He makes a point of leaving both tits covered in the white liquid and kissing Sam before finally collapsing beside him on the bed.

"You kinky bastard." Sam laughs, and the sound alone makes Dean feel warm and happy.

"Titgasms, dude. Fucking awesome." 

@@@@@

A week later, Dean wakes up scared and drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, the sensation of being swallowed by a giant navel still vivid in his mind. Eyes find his brother sleeping gloriously naked beside him—a new habit Dean loves, by the way—and, despite the gloom, the cute belly button is visible. 

Dean winces, fingers itching with the urge to touch that.

Then he wonders if…


End file.
